


demons of desire

by theappleppielifestyle



Series: Dorian and Feyvar [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: First Kiss, Get Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:56:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3689649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian walks in on the Inquisitor and a desire demon in a compromising position. Said desire demon looks exactly like Dorian at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	demons of desire

**Author's Note:**

> This series is out of order- this is their get together fic, the first fic is established relationship.

In hindsight, it’s lucky Cassandra’s there, because Dorian suspects if she wasn’t then he and the Inquisitor would have stood there staring at each other long enough for the Inquisitor to get stabbed.

What happens is this: Dorian is about ten steps from Feyvar’s room when he runs into Cassandra going the same way.

“Dorian,” she says, in the way that means Varric has done something worthy of throwing things at him and she’s still coasting on that anger. “Giving him your books again, I see.”

“What, these old things? No, I thought I’d carry them around until my arms got tired,” Dorian says flatly. “It does take a lot to keep up this physique, Lord Seeker.”

She purses her lips, says, “Mm-hm,” then flexes her considerable arm muscles, perhaps unconsciously.

“You would know,” Dorian continues.

She gives him a look that he’s been getting lately from her when he says these kind of things, a look which he’s taken to interpret as ‘I’m pleased but I’m not showing it because I’m still suspicious you’ll try to convert everyone into a Tevinter cult.’

When he shared this with their Inquisitor, he had laughed and told Dorian no-one in the Inquisition thinks Dorian is trying to recruit them into a cult, but Dorian is keeping his guard up anyway.

Which is what he should have been doing when he and Cassandra open the door to Feyvar’s room to see a complete facsimile of Dorian shirtless and standing close enough to Feyvar their feet brush, Feyvar half-lidded with parted lips as Not-Dorian leans into him in a way that is unmistakeable even if he wasn’t half-dressed.

Everyone freezes and stares upon the sight, Feyvar and Not-Dorian turning to see the new occupants in the doorway, Cassandra and Dorian goggling at the impossible thing in front of them, but some freeze for longer than others.

As Cassandra draws her sword, Dorian and Feyvar meet each other’s eyes, and something bolts through Dorian as he notices Feyvar’s blush, electric, like when he was young and gangly and didn’t have full control over his lightning charms, backfiring whenever he tried to use them.

But then they’re jerking into action, Feyvar sweeping Not-Dorian’s feet out from under him and Cassandra pinning him to the ground with a sword to his throat, Dorian dropping his books coming to stand over Not-Him with magic crackling threateningly at his fingertips, channelled by his rings.

Upon capture, Not-Dorian’s face starts to elongate, his skin starts tinting pale green. It spreads in ripples across his body and ends at his eyes, which flash slate white and milky. “Well, damn,” it sighs, and it sounds like Dorian but if he layered his voice with the sound of stones scraping against each other.

Dorian notices that the desire demon- because it is a desire demon, Maker knows he’s had to deal with a few in the past, he recognizes one when he sees it- has its breeches half-undone. He wonders distantly if it did that itself, or if they missed some key scenes before walking into Feyvar’s quarters.

“How did it get in here,” Cassandra snarls. Her sword tip presses into the demon’s throat, enough to produce a pinprick of blood.

“I have no idea,” Feyvar says, and then he doesn’t meet Dorian’s eyes for the next four days.

They send the demon back into the Fade, and somehow the entire Inquisition gets wind of the situation and shows up just as it’s happening. Everyone politely doesn’t mention its form.

Well, they don’t mention it until the Inquisitor is out of earshot.

Mostly Dorian just gets pointed looks or an offhand comment, but both Cullen and Josephine try to talk to Dorian about it, stilted and awkward as anything- more awkward than Dorian thinks a knight commander and an advisor have any business being- but Dorian excuses himself from those conversations every time it comes up.

Sera laughs. A lot. Dorian doesn’t even feel bad when she laughs so hard she takes a tumble down a few steps of stairs.

Bull laughs, too, but then he claps Dorian on the back and says he ‘hopes him and the Inquisitor get their shit sorted out soon.’

Cassandra says the same, but in her own way, slipping it into a talk that Dorian quickly exits after she says it.

Dorian resolutely doesn’t want to hear what Cole says about it, and blocks his ears and starts humming whenever Cole starts to say something about the subject.

Their Inquisitor doesn’t say anything to Dorian about it, doesn’t say much to Dorian except the least amount he can get away with and even then only when he’s forced to be around him. And he’s taken to breaking out into a blush whenever he notices Dorian’s around and then fleeing at the nearest opportunity.

Dorian is half tempted to put the man out of his misery and tell him he’s hardly the first man to want Dorian in his bed and that they should both try to forget about it, or if Feyvar’s willing, get the deed over with and move on, but whenever he tries to confront him, Feyvar turns tail and runs.

Once, he actually jumps off the stairs when he spots Dorian approaching him. He tucks and rolls upon landing and then appears to be fine as he walks off, somehow always coming out with no injuries whenever he jumps off anything at Skyhold.

Finally, Dorian just corners him.

Feyvar stiffens when he looks up and sees Dorian, clearing his throat and starting to babble: “Oh, hello, I- I have to go, I have things to, to inquisit, coming, Leliana!”

At the sound of her name, Leliana looks up at him, frowning from the other side of the room from where she definitely hadn’t called for him.

Feyvar tries to get past Dorian and shies away when Dorian doesn’t let him. Dorian doesn’t know how he feels about it- he’s seen the man charge into a valley of spiders the size of houses, but Dorian has him stammering and shying back.

 _Better to get it over and done with_ , Dorian thinks, and opens his mouth.

Apparently, Feyvar had the same idea.

“I’m very sorry I made you uncomfortable I swear I’ve been trying to make things the least amount of awkward as possible since you made it clear you don’t return my feelings and I want you to know that I hope we can still be friends but I completely understand if you don’t want to and if you don’t then I’ll leave you alone I’m very very sorry,” Feyvar says in a rush, staring straight ahead, shoulders hunched.

Dorian stares, mouth still slightly open. He runs the words over in his head, trying to come up with an appropriate response. He doesn’t get very far.

“Uh,” Dorian says. He licks his lips. “Excuse me?”

Feyvar looks haunted at the prospect of having to repeat it over again. “I… hope we can still be friends, because I value your friendship very much. But I understand completely why you wouldn’t want to. If I was in your position, the prospect of a friendship with someone who has feelings for me- I’m not sure I would accept their offer of friendship, to be honest.”

Dorian’s thought process fizzles out and then starts up again, clinking over the same words over and over. He backs up a little, looking over Feyvar’s persistent blush that blotches his face and neck.

When his Inquisitor starts to squirm, Dorian finds it in himself to say, “You have feelings for me?”

“What? Of course.” Feyvar looks uncertain, confused. “You knew that.”

“I most certainly did not!”

“What,” Feyvar repeats, voice small. He clears his throat. “Yes, you did!”

“I can assure you I didn’t.”

“Oh,” Feyvar says. “But- you said…”

“What did I say, exactly?”

Feyvar’s mouth flaps open and closed like a fish. “You said, after I gave you those flowers…”

“Flowers,” Dorian says. “What fl-”

He stops as he remembers, months ago, Feyvar coming up to him with a bunch of flowers and shoving them at him, not meeting his eyes as he did so. “Those were from _you_?”

“Who else would they be from?”

“Someone who wished me a fiery death?”

“ _What_?”

Dorian reaches up to knead at his forehead. “In Tevinter, those particular flowers together mean that you wish the receiver of said flowers to die in a very painful way, commonly fire. I assumed it was from someone who didn’t approve of me being in the Inquisition.”

Feyvar’s mouth works wordlessly for a moment before he bursts out, “Well, you’re not in Tevinter! How would- who would even _know_ that? And why did you not assume they were from me and hence not a _death threat_ , I gave them to you!”

“You shoved them into my arms, heard and saw my distaste and then ran off like I just threatened to use blood magic on your mother!”

“Well-” Feyvar crosses his arms. “I thought that was you not sharing my affections, of course I ran off!”

“Did it never occur to you to _ask_ me if I shared your affections?”

“I thought I had your answer, why would I force more embarrassment on myself? You looked so put out about the flowers, why would that lead me to think you’d want to be in a relationship with me?”

Dorian feels electricity again, crackling through him, shooting sparklers all the way to his toes, the ends of his fingers. “Relationship?”

He doesn’t think he’s seen Feyvar flush this hard since he came up to Dorian holding flowers. “A relationship, yes, what else would I be preluding to?”

Dorian blinks. “Sex,” he says honestly.

Feyvar makes a noise in the back of his throat, a panicked half-choke. “I- would like that, too, obviously, but not just that.” Then he squeezes his eyes shut, draws a tight breath. “Which is why I understand if you don’t wish to be friends with me, now that you understand the depths of my- of my feelings for you.”

For the first time Dorian can remember, he finds himself speechless. He had been prepared for every way this conversation could go, except this. Truly, Dorian had started to consider it, but he quickly stopped the thought in its tracks: he had learned at a young age not to hope, that it would only leave Dorian alone with a pain in his chest.

But Feyvar apparently has had feelings for Dorian for _months_ , perhaps even longer than Dorian himself has had feelings for Feyvar.

Dorian is half tempted to check Feyvar isn’t a desire demon, but there’s no way a demon could fake the green flash on his left hand. Dorian looks at the Mark, then meets Feyvar’s eyes.

“You wish to be friends.”

Feyvar nods quickly. “Very much. But-”

“I don’t think I wish to be friends,” Dorian says, and Feyvar stops, hunches further, opens his mouth in what Dorian assumes will be acceptance and apology.

Dorian stops it by pressing their mouths together, heart racing as Feyvar gasps against his lips. It’s going against Dorian’s every instinct doing this out in the open, kissing the Inquisitor where anyone can see them, but Dorian’s seen more impossible things than this happen since he joined the Inquisition. Feyvar wanting to court Dorian would only be in the top five. Perhaps the top three.

He doesn’t mean to, but he gets caught up in it- sex is normal for Dorian, but kissing is rare, something Dorian savours when he gets the chance. He pulls back and Feyvar groans quietly, eyes fluttering open. He looks like he did when Dorian walked in on him and the desire demon, half-lidded and wanting, dazed.

“Hnn,” Feyvar says absently, sounding confused. “Dorian?”

“So we don’t get mixed up again, that was me returning your feelings,” Dorian tells him.

Feyvar blinks like it isn’t sinking in, but then he’s grinning, ducking his head to rest it against Dorian’s shoulder. Then he startles a little, clears his throat. “Hello, Leliana.”

Dorian turns to see Leliana giving one of her blasted ravens a scroll. She’s smirking as she says, “I heard nothing if you didn’t want me to hear it, Inquisitor.”

Feyvar darts a glance at Dorian. “I’d- be fine with it if you heard things, Leliana. What do you think, Dorian?”

Knee-jerk, his chest clenches at the idea of everyone knowing- but Bull sleeps with stable boys as well as women and no one bats an eye, Dorian’s seen two men canoodling out in the open and no-one cast them any glares, or pretended not to see it. People are different, here.

“We _were_ yelling at some point, after all,” Dorian points out. “It’s only natural she heard things from over there.”

“Right,” Feyvar says, sounding relieved. “Of course.”

His thumb rubs absent circles against Dorian’s palm, where his hand had come to rest while they were kissing. Dorian links their fingers together, and Feyvar’s smile lights up brighter than the Mark ever has.

**Author's Note:**

> here's my [tumblr](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/).


End file.
